


The Storm

by LiraelClayr007



Series: My 2018 - 31 Days of Ficmas! [4]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (more like frustrations), Bed & Breakfast, F/M, First Kiss, Light Angst, No actual sex, i just err on the side of caution!, rating is for allusions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 08:06:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16828537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiraelClayr007/pseuds/LiraelClayr007
Summary: The Doctor and Rose are on holiday in Maine, enjoying the seaside but frustrated by saying good night. Their nighttime routine is interrupted by a summer storm.





	The Storm

“G’night, Doctor.”

“Good night, Rose.”

Rose closes the door of the little bedroom and looks at the giant bed. _Looks like it’s just you and me_ , she thinks. A tiny sigh escapes her lips.

Closing her eyes, she listens to the sea pounding on the shore just outside. They’re on the Maine coast, in the attic suite of a bed and breakfast. It’s August of 1962. They’ve been here for three days, sunning on the beach, eating lobster. The water isn’t warm but the air is hot, humid and heavy, so much so that the cool water is a relief. Their attic rooms are overly warm as well--not much air conditioning in 1962--but Rose refuses to leave to stay in the TARDIS. She loves the smell of the sea through the open french doors, even if the sun does fall across her eyes to wake her up in the morning. Even that’s not so bad; once she’s upright they have tea on the postage-stamp sized private balcony.

Rose crosses the few steps to the balcony to take one last look at the sea before crawling into the massive bed. The full moon and a smattering of stars cast a cool glow over the incoming waves. Several times during the day locals mentioned a storm on its way, but Rose doesn’t see anything. There’s not a cloud in the sky.

* * *

“G’night Doctor.”

“Good night, Rose.”

He smiles at her as the door closes between them, but as soon as it closes his face falls. He hates saying good night to her. She needs sleep, he can’t deny her human needs, and he can certainly find ways to amuse himself during the overnight hours. But he’s better in her presence. He dwells less in his mind and more in the world when he is with her.

It’s so faint he almost wonders if he imagines it, but he hears Rose sigh on her side of the door. He raises a fist to knock, to see if she is alright, but he lowers it again almost immediately. He doesn’t want to pry. They just said goodnight. She’s probably just homesick anyway. In the morning he’ll ask her if she wants to pop to London for a visit with Jackie sometime soon.

He wanders to the balcony doors to gaze out at the sea. He’s enjoying their time here, lazing on the beach with Rose. She blooms in the sun, as is proper. Looking out now, he realizes how beautiful the waves look in the moonlight. Tomorrow he’ll suggest a walk on the beach after dark. His lips quirk up in a smile as he pictures Rose with silver in her hair.

The air feels heavy with promise.

_On second thought, maybe the moonlight stroll will have to wait an extra day_ , he thinks, cocking his head to listen to sounds no one else can hear. _I think the locals were right about the storm._

But there’s nothing to do but wait. So he grabs the top book off the stack on the coffee table and stretches out on the sofa. After a few minutes he takes off his jacket, tosses it over the back of a nearby chair, and kicks off his trainers. He hopes the storm will bleed off some of this heat.

* * *

The crack of thunder is so loud Rose thinks the building may have split in two. After she comes fully awake, that is. Her first thoughts are more like _What?! Doctor! Dark! Loud! Hot!_ ...although perhaps not in that particular order. But when she does manage to wake up and clear her brain her eyes still can’t make sense of what’s going on.

It is dark.

Completely dark.

Her eyes open wide, searching for any scrap of light, but there is none. The nightlight is gone, or not working. The lights on the beach have gone out. There is no moon, no stars. She can hear the waves, pounding fiercely on the sand, but she can’t see a thing.

Nothing.

There is another boom, and Rose shrieks.

“Rose!”

Just before the Doctor crashes into the bed Rose realizes that the latest noise is much smaller, and it is inside the room; it is, in fact the Doctor bursting into the bedroom. But since he doesn’t have any light either--she wastes a fraction of a second wondering why he’s not waving his sonic around--he runs headlong into the bed and is sprawled on top of her before she can even wonder what he’s doing there.

He’s laying on top of her. Her brain isn’t quite sure what to do with this information.

His entire body is pressed against hers, his face mere inches from hers. Maybe less. She can feel his breath on her cheek, can feel his hearts beating against hers, but she still can’t see a thing.

They seem to be stuck, frozen in time, but somehow it also feels like hours have passed. Logically she knows it’s only been two or three seconds, everything happening too fast to process. _flick-flick-flick_

“The locals were right about the storm,” the Doctor says, somewhat unnecessarily. “The power’s out.”

She resists the urge to ask if he’s sure.

“I didn’t mean to land on top of you.” His hand brushes against her arm, and she is suddenly very aware that while he seems to be fully dressed--he was probably reading before the power went out--she...isn’t. The attic rooms have been so hot and close that she went to bed in a tank top and her knickers.

“I couldn’t see,” he says, again stating the obvious. “It’s dark.”

_You sound apologetic. Like being pressed up against me is bad. But you don’t_ **_go_ ** _anywhere. It’s like everything between us, Doctor. Stuck. Going nowhere._

Rose shifts uncomfortably. She moves her hands to the Doctor’s chest, ready to push him away--

\--but before she can apply even slight pressure there is a flash of lightning so bright it lights up the entire room, and what she sees puts all thoughts of pushing the Doctor away out of her head.

His voice had been calm, neutral.

Not so his face.

His face is a picture of longing so intense she almost forgets to breathe. The room darkens again, and thunder rattles the glass in the windows, and rain lashes at the walls and even blows into the room where she left the door open, but all she knows is his face, burned into her memory.

“Doctor?” she whispers.

“Rose,” he says, and with that one word he gives himself to her.

“Yes,” she breathes, although it is redundant, because her lips find his almost before the word is complete.

His mouth is soft, gentle, but becomes more insistent, almost frantic. His hand traces up her arm to tangle in her hair, and her skin alights under his touch. She had thought the room was warm before. Now she is on fire. Her hands still rest against his chest; she fists his shirt and pulls him closer, deepening the kiss. His other hand is under her tank top, thumb gently brushing the bare skin of her stomach. _When did that happen?_

It lasts a lifetime and no time at all.

Too soon he pulls away; their mingled breath is loud in their ears when he says, “I wish I could see you.”

“I can make that happen,” Rose says, her voice coy, “if you promise to kiss me again.”

“Honestly, Rose Tyler, until you tell me to, I’m not going to stop.”

Her belly flips at the desire and need in his voice.

_I never,_ **_ever_ ** _want to leave this bed_ , Rose thinks.

She wiggles a bit, trying to reach for something beside the bed, and he groans. “Rose…” It’s almost a warning. She giggles.

“Sorry. But you’re going to have to let me up, at least for a moment.”

“I’m firmly against this arrangement,” he grumbles, but dutifully rolls off her, flopping himself into the middle of the bed.

Rose rolls onto her stomach, aching at the lack of his weight on her; she gropes for the drawer of the bedside table and the objects she remembers the innkeeper showing her, “just in case, dear,” before plumping the pillows one last time and bustling out again. Her fingers close around them in the dark. She sits up, careful to push her hair back; there’s a scratch and a hiss and the room fills with a soft yellow glow as she puts the lit match to the candle in her lap.

Biting her lower lip, almost shy in the light, she says, “Will this do until the lights come up again?”

“Who needs lights?” he says, and his wink does nothing to mask his complete love for her. She wants to hide, the force of it is so strong, but she keeps her eyes locked on his. Steady. “This is perfect. Look at you, all golden. Although I do think we should probably close the door. I’m guessing there’s a puddle.”

The reality of the storm comes rushing back and Rose shrieks again, this time with laughter. They tumble out of bed, closing the door against the wind and rain, mopping up the water and, somewhat slyly on Rose’s part, managing to fling the wet towel onto the Doctor so he ends up having to lose the shirt. And the trousers. (She knows he would have anyway, but his yelp is completely worth it.)

Rose takes her Doctor’s hand and glances toward the bed, then realizes they are standing almost exactly how they were hours earlier, when they said good night.

“I hate saying good night to you,” she blurts. “Not saying good night, exactly, but saying the words and then closing a door between us.”

“Me too,” he says, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “I read and I tinker and I wander the TARDIS through endless nights, but for so long now all I’ve wanted is you.”

Wordlessly she steps into his embrace, tilting her face up to find his lips again. Once upon a time she met the Doctor, and it was like coming home. Loving him, and being loved in return, is finding her happily ever after, and realizing it’s not an end, but a beginning.

* * *

“G’night Doctor.”

“Good night, Rose.”

It is actually much closer to morning than night, but they are drifting off to sleep, limbs tangled together.

There is nothing between them but love.

  


**Author's Note:**

> 31 Days of Ficmas || day 4 - lights
> 
> Yes, I know. This is actually mostly about _not_ having lights. I'm allowed my interpretations, right? ;)
> 
> I also posted this on [my tumblr](https://ialwayscomewhenyoucall.tumblr.com)!


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